


People Like Us

by ElenoftheWays



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Just another post 3x05 fic, M/M, My little Penguin, Oswald just wants to be loved, Panic Attack, People-stuff, Tea is a code word for something, self exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 19:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10520049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenoftheWays/pseuds/ElenoftheWays
Summary: "Gertrud kissed his forehead and cheek in sincere adoration, was Ed so different? Was the relocation from his face to lips so different? It was nice to think about, even if he still felt detached, but that hug, that hug spoke volumes. "





	1. "I hope you know..."

“I hope you know, Oswald, I would do anything for you. You can always count on me.”

Shock morphed into a ice cold orb in the center of his chest, but it was not easy to process what was just said. Ed… Ed just said this. He would do anything for me?! Those brown irises remained wide, pupils focused only on him insistent yet sincere. Gotham was not an easy place to find sincerity, but a stomach rivaled the possibility that…

No, Oswald could not allow himself to second guess this exact moment, this exact feeling. He knew Ed…didn’t he? But it was better to revel in the moment, feeling these electrical sparks running up into his mind that spoke “someone cares.” If he was not in shock, he would have cried. If he was not so happy, he would have felt the depths of those last sweet words shivering out of his mother as she died. __“__ Y-you were always such a good boy.”

It was easy to believe that was the last time anyone had ever said something loving to him, but then, who was it that told him that love was a weakness and now neither man had nothing to lose? In a strange way, the way those careful owl-like eyes looked at him with the ferocity of the evils that lurked in his mind, this was something loving. No one could ever take his mother’s place, but there was a plot in Oswald’s heart meant for Ed and now it was widening its perimeters, physically piercing his chest.

Life practically knocked on that trailer door, didn’t it? That ridiculous and wonderful riddle-telling six foot man practically knocked on his door and took him in when he was barely at his best. How could Ed stand him wallowing between his own bed sheets? How could Ed stand the constant back and forth of emotions, sometimes deluging his pillowcases with tears? Another electrical spark ran through him at the same time devoted to every happier moment in that apartment, the piano playing, the singing, trying to understand Nygma. Huh, ironic.

There was also the night after killing Galavan, raindrops not entirely made of the weather raging outside. Oswald almost regretted giving up his umbrella as he stood in the doorway of that happy home Ed and he created together. That same wide-eyed look took over Nygma’s gaze behind those large glasses as a quiet minute passed between them. In a sudden but rather high pitched voice for Oswald’s liking “it’s done.” Those raindrops morphed into puddles around his ankles the second raindrops of another nature fell far harder than before, some entering his mouth and nose under the pressure. His perfectly polished black shoes were sopping wet looking down at them, the longer spikes of flattened fringe tickling his brow bone. All it took was the simple two syllables of “m-mother” that moved Edward towards the entrance of his home. Ed’s face actually looked sad. Both arms wrapped around his back and Oswald discovered what it was like to be hugged by someone other than his own personal Saint Gertrud. Of course it was all Ed’s instinct, the natural resourcefulness and compassion of another person watching someone else crying. Naturally slumping downwards so emotionally exhausted, it having taken a toll on his physical body, those arms only wrapped tighter around him almost holding him up. It was no “ _ _such a good boy__ ,” but it was wonderful to feel emotionally validated without a bullet to a skull or an umbrella down someone’s throat.

It was probably not polite to be staring like this, but the Great King of Gotham was almost frightened to know how long he was frozen in this state. Edward’s eyes continued to be focused on him… only him. Normally it would nerve Oswald to no end, sometimes waking up in the Nygma household to find them staring right at him curiously, possibly being watched as he slept. This kid was kind of creepy at times in this strange and forced tutelage he found himself presiding over. For so long, it was easy to wait out how long it would be until Ed would outright use him, so he would never blame Ed for any shade of malice the moment he decided to strike out on his own. Who could ever tell who to trust here in Gotham? But after that meeting in Arkham, Nygma now on the receiving end of those bars, Oswald knew he owed this strange friendship by how that man in the stripes looked at him with those wide owl eyes with an encouraging “penguins eat fish.” The man knew how to make him smile.

That cold ball began to spout an even greater and thankfully natural electrical shock, hearing the sudden knowledge flash through his mind that Edward was never not going to take care of him. The fact warmed his whole body, piercing his tear ducts, but once more he was too happy even in this frozen state of an exact second. Laughter still wanted to bubble and rattle right out of him watching those large eyes under those impressively smudge-free glasses. At last, an Adam’s Apple gulped whether in pain or whatever it was that flashed through his own mind. God, Oswald could murder Butch for this. Who even knew what was flashing through Nygma? Every decision Oswald ever made was out of emotion or self preservation, but it seemed Ed’s came from a different direction. He did have that relationship with Miss Kringle, proving that that great mind also had a body capable for whoever he found attractive, but that was other-people stuff. Not really his own personal cup of tea. It also was not Oswald’s place to presume no matter what kind of friendship they had, so in place of assumptions, the mind rewound itself to how all of this began, reliving those special sparks in a shocked nervous system. It felt affirming, glorious.

“I hope you know, Oswald, I would do anything for you. You can always count on me.”

His own throat moved almost synchronously to Ed’s more toned giraffe-like neck. It all just washed over him again, the unrelenting possibility of laughter and tears, every second intentionally or accidentally running into Ed for the past two years, Gertrud’s frizzy blond hair being laid down on the concrete floor of that warehouse. This time, Oswald would not lose himself to himself like before, that large block of ice in his chest now shooting warm rays up into his throat and arms. Edward was still looking back at him in that pure honesty, eyes completely clear of that certain haze that seemed to say “riddle time.” Nice try Ed, I still hate riddles Oswald laughingly thought to himself. Had Miss Kringle ever felt empowered by that intense gaze, the way Ed would spin a statement to sound inspiring in their own personal language? The crazy observation rose goosebumps against the hair of his arms as they reached out around Edward’s, chin light and careful against that collarbone.

At the very touch of his own robe across that lanky body, the vibrating in his chest decided on laughter than tears as it shook right out of him. The sound practically pierced his ears in the suddenness of volume, having not heard a single breath or lick of the golden fire behind Ed in that short amount of time. But Oswald could still see Ed in the golden and black robe, the flames in the fireplace radiating against the difference of the dark of glasses and the pale of his face. “Thank you” proved even louder than that scoffing laugh, ear drums momentarily rattling and arms tightening their grip even with the courtesy of his neck and shoulders in mind.

Thank you? That was all? the mind shouted to Oswald’s own throat. This man has saved your life in so many ways, you cried in front of him! You never cried like __that__ in front of anyone. This man practically nursed you back into mortality and all you have to offer __him__ is a thank you? That once care-taking palm gently moved from a shoulder blade to the middle of his back and the slight relocation practically shouted at the tear ducts to finally begin their waltz. He was smiling like a damn fool, smiling like he hadn’t had, since, well, since the night he got Edward out of Arkham! A desperate hand could not help but clutch around the texture of the robe he lent Ed, insisting something looser around his neck would be a far safer thing, including the honeyed ginger tea that now sat cold on the end table.

All back story slowly evaporated at the exact second of touch and Oswald was now fully present. That careful and precise hand used to all ways of medicine was still against his back now in a physical loyalty, the classy cologne Ed took a spray of earlier that night clung against his shoulders and rose up into sensitive nostrils, a careful thudding pressed against that ice cold orb in his chest. Eyes almost dared to close, feeling his stomach contort into a slight nervousness all over again. If Oswald closed his eyes, he could possibly find a knife in his back in the simplest submission. Hot tears began to glaze every inch of his eyes, thankful that Nygma would not see him break down this time as they clung to their respective ducts as another scoff fell right out of his chest. “I apologize, my friend, I have not heard such kindness in a very long time.”

“Yes, Oswald. I know.”

Words were at last exchanged, and consonant by consonant, tears began to slowly dry and evaporate much like his reach as they came back to their respective sides. A heavy sigh of relief wafted outwards. How lucky can a person be to find a second chance of feeling another’s heart like this, especially for an outcast like the Great King of Gotham? Those four words whooshed through his body, realizing that he had not felt __this__ amazing since watching Fish tumble into the ocean, standing up on the building’s ledge and feeling every inch of adrenaline tremble run through his body syllable by syllable “I’m the King of Gotham!”  With the change of hairstyles, that fringe did not bob across his forehead as that usually awkward nod took over his neck, but this time he was unashamedly smiling. Ed still looked as cool as a cucumber as Oswald’s body immediately shot up from the couch, that damned bad leg lurching backwards all on its own. The shock of Ed’s words must have dizzied him at some point, feeling a light swimming sensation in his temples not even acknowledging the sudden sway of the rest of his body.

“Oh, steady there Oswald.” Edward was now towering over him with palms balancing on the tops of his shoulders with the slightest grin over his lips. How odd that it wasn’t his usual awkward Cheshire Cat-like grin, this tiny smile cascading a warm humility through his veins and almost defeating that coldness in his chest completely. But if Edward was given such a shock as Oswald just had… the sentence went unfinished as his own throat gave into a scoffing giggle. That minute lift of those lips replied their own chuckle into the space between them, brown eyes now a little less wide and looking down to his own slippers. After opening and closing his mouth many times, the wheels of Ed’s mind practically grinding with thought, “I suppose that would be a shock although I always hoped my actions spoke for themselves so I did not have to say them. After tonight, it bears language and yet,” those calm eyes finally lifted without nary a twitch in them that seemed to say it was “riddle time.” “Yet not at the same time,” speedily fell out with a more apologetic grin before the deep shadows, away from the glowing fireplace, created angular shapes across those chiseled cheekbones. Even those usually attentive eyes had a surprising softness in them. “What I want the poor have, the rich need, and if you eat it, you die?”

“Ed…”

“I know,” a chin slowly tucked downwards and to the side, that nervous and humbling tick Oswald began to know too well, but this time it proved painful with a wince. A strenuous sigh shook right out of him. Even under this odd melancholy, those brown eyes still remained bright, focused, too focused on Oswald who could only continue to be happily amused despite all of the sadness that led to this exact moment. “Not much of a riddle person, I remember and once more, it, the riddle, means nothing.” A slow breath inhaled then exhaled, the bruises around his neck twitching ever so slightly before Ed began to speak even lower, “I expected nothing when we first interacted other than the pleasure of your company. All of what my life is as of now, it’s because of you. You have all my loyalty and my lo--” Now that certain twitch entered those eyes, now completely turned from the fire. They were dark in their shadows, the same shadows that swallowed up this conversation as all came to a complete quiet. Edward should have attempted to duck his head again by now, but his posture was startlingly erect now looking back at him far more carefully than before.

“Well,” Oswald heard himself breathe and quickly nodding, “it is late. Keep the robe and perhaps you should sleep sitting u--”

“Did you know the emperor mother penguin cares for their chicks through the use of their brood pouches? Isn’t that cool?” There was something behind this fact that pierced Oswald’s tear ducts all over again, although perhaps a bit presumptuous, but a quick swallow down his throat kept him stable for this moment. Those humored eyes finally broke from his, looking around the room with a soft grin that only grew bigger the more he spoke. “This mansion is like your pouch. I am very lucky, Mr. Pen--Oswald.” It seemed whenever that silly riddle-telling reed was especially humbled, the old nickname would flood right out of him. “ _ _We__ are lucky, Oswald.” Edward corrected as that amused smile slid even wider. A less injured neck was ready to nod in its particular kind of way, but before his chin could even move, it was captured by two soft palms on either side of his face. What used to be standing too close in their first interaction, Edward stood so close his mouth was pressing against his!

Oswald all but leaped backwards, looking around him unknowing what to pick up in an instinctive and violent retaliation, but it seemed for now all he had was his words as they hurled outright, “Ed, what the hell?”

“I-I apologize, Mr. Penguin,” this time it came out fully and shamelessly.

Lips parted, wanting to shrug off the past five minutes but something, something felt very odd as fingers pressed against their palms then releasing, faintly cracking in the dead silence. It was something to do since most of the things in this room available to hit Nygma with were both antiques and his father’s. They deserved better respect than whatever it was that Ed just did to him and all Oswald could squeak out was a constant “I-I…”

“I-well, Ed,” he continued to stammer as a hand rose in a natural dismissal, nods slowly rising in confidence, “You must be exhausted, get some sleep, my friend. Goodnight.” But that final word came out far higher no matter how often Oswald coughed between his words. “ _ _Gute nacht__ ”* fell out all too easily, so used to hearing the two words out of his mother’s twittery voice before the lights went out. But that was a rather intimate phrase to be telling someone who just did the strangest and most unimaginable thing to him as trembling legs limped backwards, disappearing both into the shadows and the safety of his bedroom.


	2. "Oh..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Silence finally engulfed his bedroom, but there was no rumblings of a car or anything that proved the ridiculous worry. To run right to his room in total fright, if he was still there, would make Oswald look paranoid and justified that that strange people-thing affected him in a different way."

Removing that tuxedo then wrapping up in freshly washed and striped pajamas was the first step to aid in this different shade of shock. This felt safe, as safe as those honest pupils. Oswald continued to replay them over and over in his head, those electrical currents methodically running through veins and muscles. Perhaps that was the thing about validation, it was addictive to feel accepted, if not to actually hear from another physical body that the horror in his eyes earlier that night were well-meaning! If he was not so focused on Ed, both relieved and surprised of the close proximity and that hand clutching his lapel, he would have went after Butch although leaving him at the mercy of media humiliation seemed just as perfect. But now, right now, bare feet paced up and down the firm tapestry designed rugs, hearing the floor boards creak under his uneven weight.

Sah-queak.

S-queak

Sah-queak…

“Did you know the emperor mother penguin cares for their chicks through use of their brood pouches? Isn’t that cool? This mansion is like your pouch. I am very lucky, we are very lucky.” It was strange how he could remember Ed’s face, every single tick and twitch of an iris or pupil, how his skin lit up or a certain shine that passed across his glasses but the physical sensations, the hands on his jaw, whatever that was on his mouth, he could barely remember or associate to that moment. He was, after all, just not interested in that way, but those words that preceded it shivered through him and continued to do so. Was Miss Kringle ever effected by that kindness, that loyalty? She probably felt what everyone else felt when it came to that people-stuff, but nothing felt as good as what his mind perceived knowing that Edward Nygma (did Ed have a middle name?) cared.

S-queak.

Sah-queak.

S-que…

“Oh” fell out of his mouth, stopping in his tracks. Even if that kiss was not his thing, Oswald was not completely oblivious to manners, realizing that his actions must have worried or frightened that wonderful, loyal, riddle-making fool. Ed did what he felt he had to do. Oh no, the mind easily bemused, what if Edward left the mansion, left the safety just because Oswald couldn’t attach to whatever Ed wanted through that little affection? His stomach fell. Silence finally engulfed his bedroom, but there was no rumblings of a car or anything that proved the ridiculous worry. To run right to his room in total fright, if he was still there, would make Oswald look paranoid and justified that that strange people-thing affected him in a different way. Gertrud kissed his forehead and cheek in sincere adoration, was Ed so different? Was the relocation from his face to lips so different? It was nice to think about, even if he still felt detached, but that hug, that hug spoke volumes.

Both mediums of that people-stuff were also things of loyalty, of agreement, Oswald did not spend so long in the mob world to be completely oblivious. Ed did what he wanted to do and that in itself was rather humbling, sweet. The body paused sighing, reliving everything that led up to that cologne creating shapes in his nostrils and fingers brushing his face. “This mansion is like your pouch…” struck him just as equally as those simple twelve words that turned him into an ice sculpture. Ed’s fingers were brushing his cheeks? How did he miss that? Ed did what he wanted to d--Oh no, what if he did offend one of the most easygoing people he had ever met? With their history, with those rain-soaked tears and the hugs and the singing, that space in his chest burned hot than cold and all he wanted to…

The scent of that sweet and spicy tea calmed his breath down. So Oswald brewed another cup, hoping this was a better alternative than pounding on Edward’s door at 2 AM finding the man and all his clothes gone. He might have looked a little ridiculous standing in that old kitchen in bare feet and pajamas, making tea by candlelight, panicking over the sudden thought of standing in the middle of Ed’s abandoned room sobbing. His chest, without that tight coldness, began to pound all over again.

Please still be here Ed.

Just continue to hug me

And still be here…

Please still be here…

The pathetic chanting continued to rise in his mind. Even if the thought of being lonely for the millionth time in his life continued to puncture stab wounds all over his body, Nygma was still his Chief of Staff and would… should… still work with him! Ed was far too resourceful to quit a high position in the hierarchy of Gotham especially after Election Night when he smiled that hopeful and quirky grin proving he cared enough. That was when the perimeters of his heart began to twitch. There was a sanctity to the job and naturally, Ed wouldn’t just leave him! A nostril wrinkled in a sudden sniff. Yes, Oswald’s argument was falling short looking down at the steeping tea and then softly scoffing downwards, causing ripples across the steaming scented water “what’s wrong with you? He said what he did, didn’t he?” To delve into the history of himself by himself, the ostracizing classmates, the abuse he took from Fish Mooney and Hugo Strange, everything seemed pointless in retrospection. This was between him and that sleeping man upstairs and hopefully resting upwards. To add pressure against his neck was probably not the best thing to do. Although it was nice to have Nygma home, he really should have stayed at the hospital.

The recommended five minutes devoted to a good brew calmed Oswald down all over again, starting to feel the exhaustion of this roller coaster of emotions. Why was he even making tea again? It wouldn’t hurt to leave a little note next to Ed’s bedside table with the mug, even if he doesn’t drink it. “An act of kindness for another. Thank you again, Ed, Oswald” he scrawled over a blank recipe card he found in a random drawer. His eyes even softened while writing it, feeling that spot in his heart not widening but being squished down by a greater weight. Looking over his pathetic hand writing, “thank you” once more fell out of him and tears started to fall, distorting the heavy ink. The “d” at the end of his name smudged.

Kah-reak

C-reak

Kah-reak

C-reak…

Sleepier by each step with card in one hand and mug in the other, the roller coaster was about to come to a complete stop. So Oswald was worried, who wouldn’t be when another person looked into someone’s eyes swearing loyalty and… what was it that Ed almost said the second time? Lo-- and long eyelashes immediately and sleepily fluttered against the tops of cheeks. Love? Edward loved him? In a loyal and friend way, he was allowed to love him, Oswald shrugged to himself towards the top of the steps still deciding to leave the tea in his room.

Ed would also never say those wonderful words to only sabotage it all. That was his job. He was patient, different than anyone he ever met, accepted him for who he was (where was he when Oswald was in school?), loving… The word felt far too strange not coming from the context of that saint of a mother. A light was on in Edward’s room, creating the shape of the mahogany door and the trim surrounding it was otherwise coated in 2 AM. What if he was awake, a hand immediately trembled hard enough for that tea to leap out of its mug right onto his thumb. Now he was back to being wide awake, awake and shocked he was actually doing this.

A soft “Oswald?” and footsteps walked up to him in the dark hallway. The gentleness of Edward’s step and timbre surprised him, but not enough to break the tea mug or for hot water to pour onto his finger again. But the other hand immediately crumbled up the note in his palm, knowing that ink would take awhile to wash off. “What are you doi--oh.”

“W-well, you never know” stuttered outright passing the mug over to the silhouette, watching the shadow of steam take advantage of the outline of his glasses. Struggling back a laugh considering the sudden fog across those unseen irises, “After all, you barely touched the first cup downstairs. Tea is not just a code word for a serious t-talk, y-you know.” Oswald leaned in to add to his humor of what little television he does watch.

“You’re anxious, why are you anxious?”

“Why __would__ I be anxious?”

“Oswald, come in.”

A sturdier leg shot backwards, ready to scramble away from this and disappear into the shadows all over again. It was rather instinctual to do this despite the momentary curiosity of what Ed had to say. Oswald had never been inside his bedroom since before he officially moved in. Oh, how that face contorted in surprise when Butch turned on the headlights that night he came to live in the mansion!

I __certainly__  will not” came out rather petulant for Oswald’s liking. The shadow of Ed, looking taller under the influence of the long and slim vertical light from his door frame, looked as if he heaved a heavy sigh.“Whatever you have to say, you can say it right here.” At this, the silhouette removed his glasses and slowly dropped his head.

“I was rude, Oswald, and that is why I’m out here. I went to __your__ bedroom to explain myself and you weren’t there although I shouldn’t be too surprised,” eyes darted right up to him before the rest of that neck guided itself upwards, “You do like to wander when you’re stressed.” __That__ was unfortunately true, having taken them after his mother died and post-Galavan, but both times only took him further away from Ed. Now here he was wandering all over again and voluntarily, once more, away from the man mostly swallowed in 2 AM.

“True, Ed, very true. But I am not anxious or do I need clarity.”

“Yes you do.”

“Ed…”

“Oswald,” that one available eye to the only light in the whole hallway actually looked sad, jumping an odd sensation into his stomach. Never look sad, Ed, never look sad Oswald chanted to himself watching what little of his Adam’s apple moved in the darkness, “I have known you for two years and all that you have done for me has me nothing but short of humbled. I know you feel the same way without ever saying anything, so why not call it a draw?”

“Friendship is certainly anything but a competition, Ed.”

“Which is why you are an honorable man,” that eye looked sleepy in a sudden heaviness. “I admire you for a great many things and if I must apologize for my rather,” his throat gently coughed and considering his injuries, Oswald slowly lurched forward with an instinctive foot, “fortuitous action, then I will. Sometimes a kiss can say more than words ever can.”

“ _ _I__  would rather hear them.”

“Of course, Oswald. You need things in writing, for things to be crystal clear to make your own rules to the general outline. I can’t ever be like that which is why I-I d-did what I did,” narrowed eyes looked at the tall shadow surprised. Ed very rarely stuttered around him! “C-could you come towards the light a little more?” Despite his better judgment, that foot that shot backwards only moved towards its side obediently. From this vantage point, Ed was in fuller vibrancy with that glowing difference between the pale of skin and not much else with his glasses off. The dark of those frames gave him a rather nerdy viciousness but here, he looked like an innocent little puppy, those heavy eyes smiling a sad yet sweet smile. “I do love you, Oswald, as a friend, as your pupil, and I respect you too much to ever do something like that again. In watching your social patterns, I know you don’t feel that way and my own observations stabbed me in the back--”

“What social patterns?” Shoulders swayed rather offensively.

“You are standoffish, disinterested in anything more than friendship. Earlier tonight at Siren, a woman was looking right at you very interested and you never even noticed. Men at City Hall have given you obvious side glances and you didn’t even notice then. I don’t mean to presume anythi--”

“Then don’t, Ed. This is treading on my privacy!”

“Perhaps, but you cried into my pillows for weeks and made a home in my apartment. It was very hard to not open the door after you left and not seeing you there,” that one well-lit eye looked down at the shadows of the rug beneath their feet, “But I felt I had to kiss you. If it offended,” it seemed Edward could only not look at Oswald for so long as that eye rose all over again, “But then again no, you weren’t. If it made you anxious, it must not have with the pulse in your neck racing or your voice stuttering. I know you, Oswald. You might not have been kissed in your li--”

“In my bedroom my step-sister attempted to seduce me.” That argument was flimsy.

“Not maliciously then. You have never been kissed honestly and I might not have the courtesy to do it ever again, so there, you have it. All I know is after everything you and I have been through, it’s been a long time coming.” Ed had wanted to kiss him after all those months? This too humbled Oswald, unknowing what to do. Was there a proper social convention to follow, some physical gesture to be had? All he could offer was that intense grip he had on Edward downstairs, once more clutching at his own robe still over that thinly muscled body. A deep sigh moved the chest underneath him. “Kristin was good to me, but you and I, w-we’re outcasts, Oswald. People like us are bound together when we find one another.”

“Sure, I haven’t been able to get rid of you since,” he laughed into the expensive robe, feeling the slim of glasses in one hand and the mug in the other attempting to hug him back. Now standing in embrace, his head lightly landed against Ed’s collarbone hoping to not injure him further. That steady heart beat began to raise slowly. It was beginning to be rather obvious of whatever Ed was trying to repress, despite the laughter that rocked underneath Oswald’s temple.

“Oh.” Somehow even closer within Edward’s proximity, it was as if a psychic knowing fell over Oswald as he finally understood that riddle that was spoken earlier. Those were the first words Ed had ever spoke to him and tears began to form in his eyes at the connection between the two occurrences. “Oh” exhaled even louder and far more surprised than the prior. All feeling for him must have ran deep into that tall nervous system and Oswald could not clutch onto him any tighter as everything Edward said downstairs truly washed over him.

“Oswald, I have little hand space for the moment” at last came out of Ed, every consonant pulsing carefully out of his throat, but if what he said before about a kiss saying more than words was true, what more did Oswald want to say? What more did he __need__ to say? That his heart was all Ed’s if he wanted it? That he was terrified of losing him? That the idea of Ed leaving him would break his heart? Oswald fought to come back to himself this time around, thinking those usually tautly grinning lips would be as tight as their expression, but they were soft underneath his mouth. He didn’t even realize the exact moment when his head lifted from that chest or when it arched upwards with closed eyes hoping that Ed wouldn’t be offended.

It was just this, two immobile pairs of lips laying on top of another. How was he to know if Ed wanted to indulge? Was Oswald supposed to do something else? “I don’t know what to do” he whispered into that second pair of lips which whispered right back for Oswald to be OK with “something unexpected.” They remained opened underneath his, taking a top lip captive. The scent of that one sip of tea and toothpaste wafted outwards as well as something so perfectly Ed, he could identify it just by standing beside him. A body didn’t lurch backwards in surprise or shock, but arms tightened around the gold and black robe. That mouth continually pecked at his top lip, tiny pursing sounds appearing in air between them. Something in the being told of something unexpected, yet wonderful, seemed to be the trick of Oswald’s situation. To be surprised by an earth shattering kiss might be nice for some, but not all.  

“Os, Ozzy, my little penguin--” murmured as that mockingly predatory mouth attacked his bottom lip in the same way, the sensation of teasing dampness wedging into the crease of his mouth. But it was the “my little penguin” that prompted happy and overwhelmed tears to come rushing out, there was very little questioning if Ed would feel them against his face as well. A finger brushed his cheek, a stray tear promptly wiped away even as lips continued their strange waltz of folding then pecking to only unfold, “Well, now that you have an idea…”

They must have been friends for so long as Oswald seemed to understand all of this was a quick lesson. His lips trembled at the exercise, reciprocating or imitating a brush or purse or fold. Oh, this was nice, this was wonderful. Ed kept himself perfectly under control for someone with more experience than Oswald cared to ever have, his lips as patient as the fingers that trailed down his cheek only collected under Oswald’s chin to deepen this majestic kiss. A gentle gasp immediately rolled out of, of all people, the Great King of Gotham as he staggered backward not even knowing where it came from.

“I-I,” now his heartbeat was loud and practically thudding sonar rays into the middle portion of his chest which felt so satisfied it practically purred, “I’m s--” but even with that ridiculous mug and glasses in either hand, Ed stepped forward in pursuit and was back to kissing him. “Ed,” the singular syllable sounding so pathetic in the weakest voice imaginable as it delved into the deepening of his task, their lips moving in a perfect tandem. Barely folding in towards one another, Oswald could feel those shameful noises collecting in the back of his throat all over again.  

“Damn it, I can’t kiss you with all of this in my hands,” at last, the tea was set down at a small table next to Nygma’s door, but not without a huff from Oswald that it still remained just as untouched as the prior cup, “Then perhaps tea __is__  a code word for something else, my dear penguin,” but just as a laugh began to rise out of his chest, two free hands reached out and clutched at him almost as desperate as the first time his arms wrapped around that lanky body. Those soft lips, comprised of something even softer in the slim and warm plush underneath, only made Oswald want to kiss Ed as deeply as he was being kissed. It all felt glorious as arms wound tight around his shoulders, lips folding then unfolding, tempting Oswald back into a noise. No, he wouldn’t allow Edward that pleasure. That hug may have spoke volumes, but this, these kisses-- the mind struggled rather befuddled at using such people-thing language! This felt radically different, something strictly between Ed and himself, but knowing the previous medical examiner, no doubt he would have some trivia in the back of his head that this was, indeed, a people-thing.

But lip to lip, unfolding then folding, wanting and then not wanting surrounded by this wonderful matrix of firm arms, it was something strictly between Oswald and this ridiculously wonderful idiot kissing him. Could a person fall in love just from kissing? He had to believe this, swimming in this perfect and light sensation that almost bordered on being gloriously overwhelmed. Ed’s mouth took broad brushing strokes across each lip then dropping the weight of his forehead against his, a nose softly brushing and nuzzling the bridge of Oswald’s nose. Then after a few beats of silence, that vibration rumbling out of the chest underneath his in a low voice, “Did you know that kissing involves five out of twelve cranial nerves through electric impulses between the brain, lips, tongue and skin? I left out the parts about the body’s chemicals creating an addictive high.”

“Well, you didn’t entirely ruin the moment then.” Ed was chuckling against his face as that second pair of lips lifted and pressed against his forehead. It was so sweet much like those fleeting words “my little penguin.” Would Ed ever call him that again? There really was nothing else to say here as eyes naturally closed, feeling Ed’s constant weight against his face, the cartilage of the tip of his nose gliding and brushing against his own. “This feels so surreal, how is any of this happening right now?”

“Because I was falling into darkness under that lead hand and when I opened my eyes, all I could see was you,” a mouth creased soberly, tears beginning to stream from their ducts. Those lips continued to puncture consonants and flow vowels across Oswald’s face, “I didn’t and still not know where my feelings began and ended, knowing that I was living or that you were huddled over me like a mother penguin and scared for me,” that voice deepened in the low-lit darkness between them, “I hadn’t felt needed in a very long time, Oswald, and perhaps between saving my life or always being there when I needed you the most--” That head gently shook from side to side, a nose tip softly gliding across bridge creating a ticklish sensation down the back of a rib. A sigh naturally fell out of him tempted to giggle at this.

“I’m always going to be there for you, Ed. I don’t care about noticing some woman at Barbara’s club or a male receptionist at City Hall, it’s always been you,” eyes opened up to those brown ones looking down at him, the weight of Ed lessening off of his face. A less prominent Adam’s apple slowly swallowed then sighing to only speed up into its usual awkward speed, “A-after all, you did say just a few minutes ago we are bound to one another. I-in fact,” honesty could only come pouring out of him, stating every loop and bound of this ridiculous emotional roller coaster of a night, finding himself shaking his head realizing how insane he sounded. “But saying all of that makes me sound needy and desperate, but for you, I’m glad to turn into an idiot.”

“Likewise, Oswald. I really would do anything for you,” even if it meant kissing him which few people rarely even wanted the pleasure. A smile lit up his face even brighter than the light behind Edward’s door as those long arms continued to huddle around him. “Especially to kiss you. It is strange to realize as you’re speaking that the walls around you and the person owning them makes you feel safe. Safe to not sound crazy if that voice inside of you starts to threaten someone’s life, s-safe enough to feel confident to reach over to that wonderful man’s face and kiss him. After all, he can’t hate me forever,” that smile twitched into amusement, a brown iris practically gleaming with cheekiness, “I __am__  his devoted chief of staff.”

“Again backing up my argument that I still can’t get rid of you.”

Ed was not too far from laughter, but a head shook at the wry comment before that glow diluted into a careful and slow shaking of his head, “Oswald, I don’t know where your exceptions to me lie, but, if not tonight, I would love to fall asleep in the same bed as you just once. Nothing extreme has to happen, I have to believe that isn’t what you want, but just to feel you close by.”

“Anything for you” the phrase unexpectedly and poetically came out of Oswald, yet at the same time no other words felt half as worthy as these.


	3. "The tea may have been lukewarm.."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Edward’s back was tight in its usual vigilance underneath the thin ridges of his shirt and Oswald could feel nothing but that validation within those bare arms around thicker pajamas. How could other people, capable of people-things, take such advantage of things such as hugs?"

The tea may have been lukewarm, but Oswald insisted that Ed take at last four sips before attempting to kiss him again. He always was such a weakling for the attention of others, standing at the foot of that bed watching the mixture of green and gold brocade flex under Ed’s weight. The blankets were, after all, especially ordered to mirror the colors he remembered from the old apartment. A zigzag of white sheets finally unfolded from underneath, a quick exhale alleviating a sudden nerve. There was nothing to worry about, after all, nothing towards Ed’s liking had to happen despite the assumption that followed.

“Yes, Oswald,” were the last words out of that slightly distorted throat before indulging the mug with his lips. Even during those deep sips, he could feel Gertrud’s soft hands passing a warm cup to a croupy ten year old Oswald, fingers immediately liberating strands of hair from his face. “ _ _Mein kleiner schatzi__ ”* softly came out of that light voice. “Os,” the mug finally liberated from his lips, “You’re going to fall asleep right where you stand.”

“N-no, just,” eyes opened to the present, no longer ten years old or sick, seeing the man who kissed him outside his bedroom door remove the borrowed robe. “With medicinal tea comes medicinal memories,” a throat gently chuckled. There was that usual white tank top and black pajama pants Ed would always don before falling back into his couch at the old apartment, glad to have given up his bed. It only took the removal for an otherwise relaxed heartbeat to start pounding loudly in his ears not out of anxiety, but for all the people-things. Was this really happening? Couldn’t Oswald just sleep in a chair like Edward had all those weeks? The man in question began to slowly enter into that ocean of white sheets and his stomach dropped. Oh God, could he even do this?

Before the sheets swallowed every inch of Edward Nygma, those now bare feet immediately left that ocean walking over to Oswald with hands immediately dropping to his biceps. “Oswald,” he almost held his breath, hoping to hear that term of endearment again, “You shouldn’t have to do something you don’t want to do.” But when Ed’s mouth was on his, it was a very inopportune time to say no. “That might be true” came out surprisingly soft, almost mumbling as hands slid down arms right into his palms, the one ink-ridden hand not as bad as he believed already having scrubbed it out in Ed’s adjoining bathroom, “But please, do whatever you believe is comfortable. I would rather have the truth out there then falling asleep by myself with a smile on my face.”

“I __do__  wish to see that smile, Ed,” his throat gently shook but every refined angle of that face lit up in a gentle delight. Lips barely lifted or eyes especially shined, but something in that awkward fragment struck him deeply and Oswald’s heartbeat fell back into that soft rhythm all over again. God, all of these emotions were beginning to drain him, but here he was stuck at the foot of Edward Nygma’s four post bed wanting to just watch the tall man in front of him, being able to kiss him when he could, to watch his sleeping chest heave up and down. No, Oswald wanted to do this as he looked up courageously in that ridiculous height difference and arms wrapped around the thin fabric against Edward’s back.

Edward’s back was tight in its usual vigilance underneath the thin ridges of his shirt and Oswald could feel nothing but that validation within those bare arms around thicker pajamas. How could other people, capable of people-things, take such advantage of things such as hugs? After many minutes, lost in the purity of Ed’s arms around his back, “Os, I would like nothing better than to drape you over my bed,” those low rumbling words barely printing anxiety in his chest. A quick nod brushed Ed’s shoulder, reveling in the taller man’s thoughtless nicknames. He was a man of action in ways that Oswald just wasn’t, as those arms steered him around and closer to the foot of the bed. Now positioned where Ed was just moments before, those arms never leaving their spots on his shoulders, that green and gold duvet slowly and softly sighing from lower back to shoulder blades until finally the neck and the back of the head, Oswald’s nerves were officially soothed.

True to the betterment of Ed’s health, a body scooted further up to the pillows and immediately shaping the ones not underneath him into a slant up against the headboard, “What are you doing?”

“I did tell you you should sleep upwards with your injuries.”

“Mother-Penguin,” Oswald only hoped __that__ wouldn’t become a term of endearment, still silently begging to hear “my little penguin” come from those thin lips. A sigh wracked from Ed’s thin ribs before coming around to the other side of the bed and dutifully laying back onto the cushioned incline. “Hm” shoulders shifted against the pillows, “this position isn’t very convenient,” he admitted, rolling onto one shoulder and while every inch of those brown eyes smiled, they still winced at the movement.

“My point entirely,” was all Oswald could say, moving onto his own shoulder to take in all of Ed’s face, that smiling contentment still in those eyes. Even a soft shake of his brown hair against a pillowcase, a soft swishing sound in its movement, proved just as painful as those eyes blinked. It was worth it, those lips, now in the fullest and closest view, explained. Could Edward possibly kiss him again like he did in front of the bedroom door? Oswald’s mouth did become rather dry without Ed’s against his, the observation leaping to a silent mind even quieter than the air between them.

“Ed, what’s your middle name?” just came right out, somehow laughter being the first answer to this ridiculous question which Oswald too chuckled at, shaking his head.

“My mother abandoned me so quickly she never had a chance to baptize me with one. I would have presumed it would have been some variant of my father’s name, ironic,” glasses were immediately removed, placed on the bedside table then pressing fingers at the bridge of his nose, “So I changed it to Nygma, it certainly makes me appear even more intelligent,” even under the haze of intimacy, that Adam’s apple continued to bob just as matter-of-factual in its wryness from clipped consonant to clipped consonant. “Why?” broke through the silence, eyes softly wincing in curiosity, “What’s yours?”

“Chesterfield.** My mother never explained why, but I always thought it was my father’s name, but turns out it was, well you know, van Dahl.”

“I would have liked to have met your father. You look like him.”

“Wonderful man, Elijah,” the back of his throat felt like Velcro at the very topic, almost closing in on itself, “Wonderful man, if only he trusted the right peo--” This death, on the other hand, was still fresh with tears trembling in their pockets. He coughed at that dryness, closing his eyes, but in opening them, that angular face was even closer to his, pale against the white of pillowcases. “Is it possible to love someone after only two weeks? Father and I never really spoke about the big important things in detail, but I could just look at him and feel complete then completely torn apart that he could never spend his life with my mother,” with that, a hand just as smooth as his mother’s brushed his hair back to the crown of his head.

“My little penguin” finally came out of this moment, sheets cooing around Ed moving even closer into him until Oswald’s toes met his shins. Those eyes, usually so large under diligence, were half closed as a hand continued to brush through hair, “Then we both know what it means to be completely alone, brilliant but alone.” A scoff barely wafted at the inverted compliment, but at least he smiled. He smiled and there was no other syllable to explain himself, so lips sealed the last of the distance between them. It was wonderful as Ed continued to attach his mouth to his, gently rolling onto knees to only lift this ridiculously tall genius against the slant of his pillows. A soft grunt then a laugh immediately took over the mouth underneath his, “This is so odd,” Ed spoke down Oswald’s throat, gently pecking before completely releasing, “Odd, but nice, being cared for. Actually, it’s quite wonderful.”

“That pouch of yours?”

“Indeed,” Oswald watched those brown eyes slowly close, his chin naturally gravitating to lie right underneath where that contented heartbeat laid. A gentle swallow moved one of those gray bruises on his neck, “I worried I divulged too much with that fact of being cared for.”

“Never be worried of talking too much” and lips immediately raised making the humorous connection feeling his neck lurching forward as it always did in these instances, “but I might regret ever saying that out loud.” Ed’s laughing exhale immediately wafted across his forehead. “And only regretting that previous regret.” Edward looked nothing short of ecstatic, smiling down at him although that angle had to have hurt just as equally. Lifting off of that thinly muscled body and moving upwards onto his own pillow, “And this feels just as odd yet wonderful.” His lips fell to Edward’s forehead, “Now you should sleep.”

A hand immediately shot to a bicep in a soft grip, “But you’re not leaving. Please don’t leave, Oswald.”

Eyelashes fluttered, pleasantly surprised and happy to hear that same desperation that waltzed in his mind out of the man underneath him. Of course Oswald wasn’t leaving this bed any time soon and at this reassurance, Ed immediately sat up and kissed him. This one was different, intense as the suction of two thin lips cupped his, a soft movement of the lower softly entering his mouth. Oh… the gentle grazing felt wonderful, the natural perspiration of the inner lip tickling his own. Long thin arms surrounded him all over again, Edward’s usual methodic heartbeat now taking a new rhythm. Oh… and Oswald’s stomach dropped but nowhere near the depths from earlier in the night. Even the hands attached to the besieging arms brushed shoulder blades differently, one finger to another to only clutch the back of his neck. For Ed, compliments seemed to have gone a long way as Oswald almost wanted to completely drown in this.

“Mm, I-” those lips began to move otherwise, “I apologize, Mr. Pen--Oswald. It’s been a long time coming and a long time in other ways.”

“Of course, Ed. I’m not completely blind to the wants of others, but,” now that he could actually vocalize all these particular rules in his mind, Oswald didn’t know what to say! His mouth practically hung open. What if they came across as nothing but excuses to a second person, albeit to Edward Nygma, the most understanding person imaginable!? “I-I’m not sure where my preferences lie anymore.” Wait, what? His mind yelled towards his spontaneously speaking throat. “I-I mean, I never even considered being kissed by anyone but my mother. With my past as it is, I never even considered anything remotely like this. I-it’s a people-thing,” well, that came flooding right out, “Not necessarily a __me__ -thing. Oh, God--” immediately whined out of him rolling completely onto his back.

“Then I am glad to be your exception, Oswald--” even behind closed eyes, he could still see Ed’s face, but not those over expressive irises. His voice sounded soft as an even softer hand reached out for his, fingers weaving between Oswald’s. The very innocent touch prompted eyelids open, looking over to the gentlest brown irises, pupils completely focused on him, only him, “Even if never fully realized, I’m glad to be an exception to any of your rules. Thank you,” those fingers laid across his knuckles tightly, raising his hand to the sensation of lips. A throat immediately coughed.

“No, Ed, thank __you__ for even entering the idea into my head.”

“No one has ever gave you that inkling.”

“None,” Oswald had to smile that the statement was barely made a question. Ed knew him far too well as that palm brushed against his, momentarily tickling him. Tears wanted to spring right out in this sheer complete moment of being touched by someone else. How could anyone take such advantage of this? “The way you stared at me and said what you said, it surprised me but __that__  was a good kind of surprised. I can handle unexpected words better than actions and as for what happened afterwards, I so deeply apologize for how I reacted.”

“Anyone who cannot handle unexpected action would react like that.”

“Very astute, Ed.” was there a silly little nickname that could equal “my little penguin?” Oswald immediately wanted to see those words bob right out of that throat as hair moved across a noisy pillowcase to look over to him. Even for all of the damage done to Ed’s neck, he was still going against medical advice as their eyes met all over again, “I never realized how much I needed you around. Your opinion means the world to me and your presence makes me happy. But as for those peo--w-what you call kisses, I rather like how I feel in them.”

“As you should, Oswald, as nerve endings are stimulated,” and that usual matter-of-factual voice came right out, clipped consonant by clipped consonant as he rolled onto his back, “dopamine and oxytocin is released into the brain creating--”

“Oh Ed.”

Those lips actually stopped in the middle of a fact although an interrupted one! Oswald grinned at this as that dark hair shook against the bright white pillowcase all over again, “I just know that even as chemicals are doing what they do, I would only want to be with you while they’re being activated. I love you, Mr. Pen--Oswald,” those eyes began a descending heaviness, blinking back to open with a soft giggle, “I-I suppose some habits die hard.”

“Get some sleep, you r-ridiculous w-wonderful--” Oswald scrambled for any affectionate term in his mind, “riddle-telling riddler you.”

“Riddler. I like that,” eyes winced in approval, although they slowly began a descent into sleep. Ed’s chest was already gently heaving up and down, ready to give into exhaustion, but those large brown irises opened looking rather worried and a head cocked towards Oswald’s direction, “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“Well, I can’t really go anywhere without my devoted chief of staff, can I?”

“Of course not,” but that insecurity seemed to compliment him as deeply as that flame-licked loyalty in front of the fireplace. Ed began to slide into repose completely and a smile proved unrelenting.

Sheets sang as Oswald sat up in that bed for the last time, high enough to kiss that forehead again. So this is what it feels like to be on the giving end of something wonderful and that smile did not just end by the simple purse of lips against a wide brow. Those bare eyebrows gently ruffled at the swift action as that same mouth pressed against Ed’s cheek. Oswald dropped back onto his own pillows contented yet with a silent panic of a morning-tinted regret either from Ed or himself if not the both of them. But lips knew what they wanted as a half sleeping hand searched for his, fingers tight against knuckles.

“ _ _Gute nacht__ , my little riddler,” Oswald smiled over to that heaving chest feeling all of that emotional roller coaster finally come to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *German term of endearment = "My little darling"  
> **DC Canon middle name

**Author's Note:**

> *German, "Good night."


End file.
